


Ties That Bind

by cyren2132



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Ties, Trick or Treat 2017, reluctant allies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 17:26:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12512464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyren2132/pseuds/cyren2132
Summary: As much as Peter hated to admit it, they needed the Stilinski brat if they were going to survive in this new war.





	Ties That Bind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ninj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninj/gifts).



Peter checked the address again as he pulled into the parking lot. The apartment complex looked like it had been converted from a motel -- and not a particularly nice one. He couldn’t decide if the mixture of Top 40 and rap blaring from opposite ends of the complex as drunken roars and the squeals of co-eds emanated from a courtyard area he couldn’t see but could entirely smell made it better or worse.

Double-checking the lock on his car, Peter made his way up a flight of cement stairs and knocked on the door. The overgrown infant that greeted him was not what he expected. He was about an inch shorter than Peter but had a stockiness that was evident even beneath the piles of fabric that made up a pair of nylon basketball shorts and Cheeto-stained T-shirt.

“Yeah?” he grunted, and something about his tone and the three strands of scraggly hair that might make full-beard if he gave it three more years just made Peter want to knock his head clean off his shoulders. Instead, he took a deep breath that he instantly regretted and clenched his fist.

“I’m looking for Stiles Stilinski.”

Grunt looked him up and down before stepping aside and opening the door wider.

“Stilinski! There’s an old guy here to see you!”

Peter rolled his eyes as he stepped into the small apartment strewn with pizza boxes, beer cans, a sink full of dirty dishes -- and was that an inflatable palm tree in the corner? Peter didn’t have long to consider it before Stiles came hopping on one foot out of a bedroom, his other foot pulled up to his chest as he struggled to tie a shoe while the ends of a tie hung over his shoulders.

“Hey, Dad, can’t really talk right now, big mission. But could you help me with my t-” Stiles stopped midword as he looked up, brought his foot down and banged into a shelf. “P...Peter? What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to take you home.”

“Uh huh,” Stiles answered. “Any reason I should believe that? And any reason I shouldn’t be knocking you on your ass?” He reached over in a fit of bravado and grabbed a street hockey stick that was -- if possible -- even less threatening than his Beacon Hills baseball bat. Peter advanced toward him, a smirk on his lips and witty yet slightly menacing retort at the tip of his tongue when a loud crunching grabbed both of their attention.

Grunt was sitting on the sofa shoveling potato chips in his mouth and shifting his eyes between the two of them.

“Dennis, a little privacy?” Stiles snapped. Dennis just grinned and waved a finger in their direction.

“My name’s on the lease brah,” he said as crumbs flew from his lips. “You just rent a room.”

“Brah? Seriously? We talked about this,” Stiles shot back while nevertheless grabbing Peter by the shoulder and dragging him into a bedroom. The room was surprisingly well kept with a laptop on the desk and a padlocked minifridge and hot plate in a corner.

“I see you’ve taken proper precautions,” Peter said with a nod to the fridge. “I certainly wouldn’t trust foodstuffs around Grunty McChipface out there, either.”

“He’s not that bad,” Stiles said absently -- and contrarily -- as he finished tying his shoe, hit play on a muted video and began fumbling with his tie per its instructions. “Now why are you here?”

“Like I said, much as it pains me, you need to get back to Beacon Hills.”

“Oh please, like anyone would send you here unless...wait...what’s wrong? Is everyone OK? Is my dad-”

“No one’s dead,” Peter said in something that approached reassuringly. “No one’s even in the hospital anymore-”

“ANYMORE?!”

“But we need to go.” Peter grabbed his arm, but Stiles jerked it away.

“What’s going on here?!” he whispered angrily -- the next best thing to yelling. 

Peter took a deep breath, searching for the best way to explain the current situation, finding none and going with the next best alternative -- brutal honesty.

“A faceless fear monster is terrorizing the city, whipping all the locals into a frenzy crazy enough to join a rag tag team of hunters mentored and arrmed by everyone’s second favorite homicidal maniac Gerard Argent. Meanwhile, your idiot friend Scott thinks if he can just get everyone to sit down and sing kumbaya everything will work itself out. I, by the way, think that is a stupid idea.”

Stiles paused for a moment, taking in all the new information.

“Yeah that sounds like Scott and Gerard,” he admitted before turning back to his tie. “Why wouldn’t they tell me? Why am I hearing about this from you” he muttered as his fingers angrily twisted and looped the fabric into unrecognizable knots “I mean, everything I’ve done-”

“Stiles, stop, stop, just STOP.” Peter said as he stepped forward and shoved Stiles’ hand away from the tie, undid the knots and ripped it from his shoulders. “You’re going to make me insane, again.” Stiles tensed visibly as Peter smoothed the strip of fabric and raised the collar on Stiles’ shirt.

“You got out,” he continued, draping the tie so its ends hung down Stiles’ chest, the narrow part stopping at his belt.. “I’ve been in the supernatural world my entire life,” he crossed the wide end across the narrow once. “It’s got a lot of advantages but sometimes…” Peter looped the end of the tie around the narrow again, careful to pinch the layers together at top. “Sometimes it’d be nice to be normal and not have to deal with hunters and packs and ghost riders.” The tie passed over a third time. “You got out.”

“Okay, well, that still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

Holding the half-done knot in one hand, Peter roughly pushed Stiles’ head up with the other.

“Contrary to popular opinion, I’m not the heartless monster you all like to think I am,” Peter continued as he pulled the fabric up from behind. “Well. Most of the time.” It was a tight fit getting the bottom of the tie through both of the front loops, and Stiles had plenty of time to think while Peter worked the end through enough to grasp.

“Malia,” Stiles finally said. Peter paused, frowning before pulling the tie down through the loops.

“She’ll follow Scott anywhere,” he said quietly, “doing all the things he can’t until it kills her. Until it kills all of them.” One final tug left the tie mostly done, and a quick jerk and slide of the knot left it uncomfortably tight on Stiles’ throat. “But if anyone asks, I was never here.” A quick adjustment loosened it slightly and Peter’ hands went to Stiles’ collar, pulling it back down and smoothing out the shirt. “Unless Malia asks. Then I was here and a big damn hero.”

Stiles stepped back, looked in the mirror and made a final adjustment before slinging a bag over his shoulder. 

“We can’t go yet,” he said. “Derek’s here.”

“Derek?!”

“Yeah. I’ve got to go be on the FBI team that’s raiding his not-so-safehouse while also saving him from the raid without anyone noticing, so you know. That’ll be fun. But if we’re going back to Beacon Hills, he should come too.”

“I have no idea how you’re getting back, but I have a flight that leaves in an hour. Derek’s a big boy, he doesn’t need you to rescue him.”

“Whether he needs it or not, I’m going.” Stiles snorted in the air, almost like he couldn’t believe what he was about to say. “It’d be easier and safer if I had a little help.”

Peter sighed and shook his head.

“Fine,” he said. “But don’t dawdle, and like I said, if anyone asks-”

“Yeah, yeah, you were never here,” Stiles answered as he pulled a jacket off the chair and left the bedroom. “Dennis, I’m heading out” he called as he and Peter made their way to the front door. “Rent’s on the table.”

“Where ya goin’?” Dennis said from his place on the couch. Stiles turned and gave the messy apartment one last look. Peter was already halfway down the steps.

“Home.”

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone is curious, I spent a great deal of time trying to pick a knot for Peter to use on Stiles' tie. I went with the Prince Albert, described as a thin knot having "swagger and elegance." Read more about it and other knots here:  
> https://www.ties.com/how-to-tie-a-tie


End file.
